London Journal; Old-Style Power Struggle Brings Abbey Up to Date

By SARAH LYALL

Published: June 10, 1998

LONDON, June 9—
Time moves slowly at Westminster Abbey, a church of high Anglican solemnity whose first inhabitant, King Edward the Confessor, has been resting in his tomb there for 900 years.

But when the Very Rev. Wesley Carr took over as Dean in February 1997, it was as if a high-speed cheetah had careered into a field of stately, shuffling sheep. Quickly putting into place changes that had been discussed for some time, Dr. Carr embarked on a program called ''Recovering the Calm,'' which sought to control the abbey's increasingly unruly crowds of tourists but which threw the church into an un-calm tizzy.

While the church began charging non-worshipers an $8 entrance fee, the new Dean supervised the installation of closed-circuit television cameras; decreed that tour groups could have no more than 26 tourists, down from 50, and helped set up a one-way system to prod visitors into proceeding in an orderly fashion. And, in a move that reportedly left some elderly people in tears, he told the church's volunteers that starting next year, they would have to retire at 75.

But it was when Dr. Carr made his next move -- to suspend and then dismiss Martin Neary, the abbey's popular, distinguished and impeccably well-connected organist and Master of the Choristers -- that he set in motion a dispute that has reverberated far beyond the church walls.

It is a tale straight out of an Anthony Trollope novel, but with all the elements of a timeless power struggle: charges of financial impropriety, accusations of bullying and jealous high-handedness, even appeals to royalty.

On one side is the Dean, who, with his four Canons, runs perhaps the highest-profile church in England. Styled a ''Royal Peculiar'' because it is directly under the Queen's jurisdiction, the abbey is the church where monarchs are crowned; where the funeral of Diana, the Princess of Wales, was held, and where Dickens, Chaucer, Tennyson and others are buried.

On the other side is Mr. Neary, internationally known musician, two-time president of the Royal College of Organists and, since 1988, holder of a position once occupied by Henry Purcell. Mr. Neary's fight to get his job back is being supported by an extraordinary group of establishment figures, including former Prime Minister Edward Heath; the composer John Tavener; a number of members of the House of Lords; John Gummer, a former Cabinet minister, and Frank Field, the Minister for Welfare Reform, who was recently moved to declare that the Dean was ''nothing but a bully'' who had left Mr. Neary ''dangling on a meat wire.''

Churches have often been sniping, intrigue-ridden fiefs, and organists and deans through the ages have fallen out over issues like what sort of music to use and where power really resides (temporal power, that is). Purcell himself was disciplined by the abbey when he sold tickets for coveted seats at the 1689 coronation.

Money was behind the current dispute, too, which has at its heart a company established by Mr. Neary and his wife, Penny, the concerts secretary, to handle the church choir's contracts and tours. The Nearys said that they had set up the company on the advice of accountants, that it had saved the abbey money and that they had never tried to hide its existence. But Dr. Carr -- backed by the abbey's Canons -- said that the company represented a conflict of interest and that it had unethically paid Mrs. Neary a $2,400 ''fixing fee'' for organizing tours and the like.

''It is not the amounts of money that matter, but the lack of openness and the loss of trust,'' Dr. Carr told The Daily Telegraph.

So the Dean dismissed the Nearys on the Thursday before Easter Sunday, reportedly rebuffing the services of a number of high-placed would-be mediators, including Lord Weatherill, former Speaker of the House of Commons, and forcing the summary cancellation of the abbey's Easter concert.

The Nearys denied all the charges -- ''It's like suggesting Mother Teresa had run off with the community chest,'' one of their supporters said -- and they appealed the decision. In a sign of the gravity of the matter, the case is to be heard by the Lord Chancellor himself, Britain's top legal official. And if the Nearys should be reinstated, the Dean might feel little choice but to resign.

The Dean, 56 and previously the Dean of Bristol Cathedral, is no longer speaking to reporters. ''He is trying to maintain a dignified silence,'' said Emma St. John-Smith, a spokeswoman for the abbey. ''This whole business has just become so personal. Quite clearly, Dr. Neary has friends in high places, and there are certain elements who seem to have their knives out for the Dean.''

Dr. Neary's supporters have deluged The Times of London with furious letters; organized a fund that has raised more than $80,000 to help pay the Nearys' legal expenses, and told anyone who will listen that Dr. Carr has a history of high-handed behavior.

Among other things, Dr. Carr's critics mutter, he was suffused with jealousy when Mr. Neary was made a Lieutenant of something called the Royal Victorian Order by the Queen after Diana's funeral, while the Dean was not made anything.

''He's narcissistic and he has a need to put his finger in every single pie there is,'' said Alan Taylor, who was recently dismissed from his non-paying position at the abbey when, he said, he criticized the Dean to reporters. ''The man sees himself as God's adviser.''

Sir Bryan Thwaites, a retired mathematics professor who has been friends with Mr. Neary for more than 30 years, and who convenes the Martin Neary Support Group, said: ''The Dean is a virtual dictator. For reasons which are totally unfathomable, he decided to sack Martin Neary. I am a man of very considerable experience in high management affairs, and it struck me as being absolutely absurd.''

But Miss St. John-Smith said the Nearys' supporters were being unfair. ''They keep talking about the 'dreadful Dean,' which he isn't,'' she said. ''He's not a bully. He's a very direct person, very humorous -- perhaps quite a decisive person. Some people perhaps find his style a bit sharp. But I've been here 12 years, and I get on with him very well.''

''This is a straight employment dispute,'' she added. ''The Dean and chapter followed to the letter the requirements of this country's employment legislation. Had this been any other organization, chances are this would have been a two-day wonder.''

Photos: Martin Neary, left, holding an honor from the Queen, was recently dismissed as head of music at Westminster Abbey. (John Stillwell/PA); His fight to get his job back, with the support of an impeccable slate of friends, has set off a power struggle with the Very Rev. Wesley Carr, right, the abbey's Dean. (Reuters)